


Heavy

by TheNightCourt09



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 06:02:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17861693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNightCourt09/pseuds/TheNightCourt09
Summary: It's years after the war and Aelin still has those days where she just doesn't want to get out of bed. Rowan knows just how to help.It's a little angsty but its really cute at the end.





	Heavy

**Author's Note:**

> Just another cute little fic, I hope you love it as much as i do.

It was one of those days. One of those god-awful days that still seemed to slam into her. It had been close to three years after Maeve imprisoned her but there were days were she still felt…heavy; it didn’t matter what she did the feelings wouldn’t shake. Aelin knew before she even opened her eyes that she didn’t want to get out of bed. The familiar nothingness crept into her mind and body smothering her fae senses. It was enough to make her cry, cry in frustration, in despair, in pure undulating hatred for this feeling.

The sun was still low on the horizon when Aelin swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up barely taking in the lavish room she’d come to call home. Rowan was nowhere to be seen, the bed cold beside her. He must have got up hours ago.

Aelin yawned and shuffled over to the small armchair positioned by one of the towering windows, a book sat on the small side table. She didn’t bother picking it up. She had put down just yesterday when she stole a few hours just for herself and read into the night. Now she just sat there in a scandalous nightgown, knees pulled to her chest and looked out onto the Staghorns.

The sun slowly moved, higher and higher but still Aelin sat there consumed by her thoughts. Her painful, self-deprecating thoughts were filled with the hours in which she was tormented both physically and mentally. She didn’t know if she was caught in some dream scape of Maeve’s making or if this was real. How could it be real? How did she survive the war? How did she, of all people, deserve any of this?

Aelin pulled her knees in closer and a single tear slid down her cheek. It was the moments like this that made her wish that the lock had really taken all of her. It would be a lot easier if she were dead.

As if Rowan detected those awful thoughts he flew down and landed on the balcony, a flash of light and he slid through the doorway, that powerful gait propelling him forward to her.

Aelin slowly dragged her eyes from the mountains and found his eyes peering deep into her soul. Her mate saw her pain-filled eyes and knew; just knew what kind of day this was going to be. The look he gave her was one of love and pain. Pain for her suffering.

Rowan knelt down in front of his Fireheart and just took her hand and brought it to his lips, gently kissing her scar-flecked hand. Scared anew after the war and the numerous gruelling training sessions they’d both endured.

“Fireheart,” Rowan said, the love in his voice broke her completely and there was nothing she could do to stop the endless stream of tears and they rushed down her face. She let out a heaving sob as Rowan picked her up and moved so that she was sitting in his lap as he sat in the armchair – her face buried in his neck.

Aelin cried and cried and cried until there were no more tears left, until she was utterly drained and felt as if she could sleep for days and days on end.

“Fireheart.”

“I feel heavy again,” Aelin said, gripping onto Rowan’s loose white shirt; breathing in his pine and snow scent.

“It’s okay, I’m here. I’ve got you,” Rowan whispered into her ear. “I love you so much Aelin.”

“I can’t be here, it’s too much. Everything is too much.”

“Don’t you for one second think that. You are stronger than this and I know it will take time and that today is just a bad day, but you will be okay. Who else can whoop my ass in the training ring?”

Aelin huffed a small laugh but didn’t reply and they sat in silence, holding each other, content to just sit in silence.

Suddenly Rowan cleared his throat, “I’ll be right back.” He placed her down into the armchair and hurried off.

Aelin rubbed her face and strolled into the wardrobe, changing into loose tan pants and an even looser white shirt that she tucked in. As she walked back out about to grab a book, any book to distract her from her awful thoughts, Fenrys walked in with the biggest piece of chocolate cake she’d ever seen and a massive smile on his face. Then he blinked three times, _are you alright?_

Aelin blinked twice, _no._

He blinked four times, _I am here, I am with you_ , then extended the chocolate cake to her. Despite her depressed mood she smiled, then reached out for the cake and strolled to the low-lying table amongst the plush cream couches.

“Oh my,” Aelin said, her mouth full of chocolate cake, “This is the best chocolate cake I’ve ever had.” She tried to shove more into her already stuffed face. Fenrys laughed.

“I’ve been around for a while,” he said simply.

“You mean to tell me that you made this chocolate cake and only now,” Aelin said waving her arms around, “you are revealing the fact that you make the best cake I’ve ever had.”

“Oops,” Fenrys said and they both laughed as Aelin playfully punched him in the arm.

 

. . .

 

Rowan lingered in the doorway as he watched Aelin and Fenrys. As he saw them laugh then cry, then just sit there in silence every now and then blinking at each other in that silent language of theirs. No one else, not even he would understand what they both went through in those months that Maeve had tortured her and made Fenrys watch. He was glad, so endlessly glad that she had someone to talk to when even he wasn’t able to drag her out of that depthless pit that seemed to suck the life out of her.

Rowan left them sitting together and walked through the castle to the Royal Theatre that had just been finished built only a few days ago. Not a single performance, a new beautiful theatre that Rowan had promised his Fireheart. It was grand, grander than the one in Rifthold. Probably due to the fact that Aelin had brought in the best architects and musicians to design it – she’d also made her own individual contribution to the design.

He shifted into his hawk form and flew out the closest window. Tonight, he would take his Fireheart to the theatre.

 

. . .

 

Aelin laid in bed, tired and drained from the emotional day she’d had. Thank the gods it was a Sunday. Months ago, she’d made it an official rule to never have meetings on a Sunday and after the mental endurance her entire court had endured for six months straight whilst they rebuilt Terrasen they all deserved it.

Rowan strolled into the room, a smug look on his face. Aelin glanced at him “what?”

“Oh, I’ve got a surprise for you,” he said as he leaned down and quickly kissed her on the lips. “Get ready in your best dress, we’re going out.”

 

. . .

 

An hour later Aelin stood at the grand oak door in the foyer of the castle in a green and silver dress. The bodice tight, the skirts flowing and elegant. All the detailing in embraided silver thread, she’d even had the maids weave a similar silver thread through her hair after they’d meticulously curled it and pinned pieces up. She looked positively stunning and Rowan in his matching green and silver tunic looked ravenous.

“What are we waiting for and where are we going?” Aelin pouted.

“All in due time.”

“You know you’re an absolute buzzard.”

“Yes,” Rowan grinned.

If she were being honest, she couldn’t be bothered going out tonight, but it hadn’t taken much convincing from Rowan before she was having her hair done and picking out a dress.

“Can’t we just go–”

“Where did you get that dress?” Lysandra cooed as she, Aedion, Fenrys, Elide and Lorcan walked in behind her.

“Jealous, are we?” Aelin smirked, though inside she was endlessly tired and over this entire day.

“Not in the slightest,” she said, a wicked feline smile adorned her face. Aedion rolled his eyes at Lorcan as if to say _women_ and she had a feeling that Lorcan’s returning look said that he strongly agreed. Elide looked beautiful in her periwinkle gown and Lysandra looked positively scandalous in her red and silver gown. Aedion couldn’t keep his eyes off her and Lorcan hung extra close to Elide. Territorial fae bastards.

“Rowan, what is this? Where are we going?” Aelin said again, clearly frustrated.

“You’ll love it.”

Aelin whined but she was just ushered into one of the many royal carriages that were lined up out the front of the castle.

“Rowa–”

“It’s a surprise,” he said as he reached for her hand and placed a kiss on her forehead. Fine she’d go along with it.

It wasn’t a terribly long carriage ride and she didn’t bother marking the roads they turned down or the buildings they passed, not when she was so busy breathing in the scent of her mate and just looking into those beautiful eyes of his. She was so entranced that she didn’t notice when the carriage stopped and Rowan smiled, pure joy and excitement filled those eyes, “we’re here,” he said stepping out of the carriage. Aelin huffed in annoyance as she reached for his hand as she stepped down out of the carriage and her jaw dropped.

Dropped as she saw the towering Royal Theatre of Terrasen lit up by numerous candles and torches. During the day it looked magnificent but at night it was entrancing. The white marble glimmered in the fire light.

“You’re welcome,” Rowan whispered into her ear as he came behind her and put his arms around her. Aelin turned in his arms.

“I love you so much,” she said as she kissed him, passionately and filled with need.

“Aelin,” Rowan muttered as if she were the air he breathed and the reason he got up in the morning, it made her toes curl.

“Ew get a room,” Lysandra whined as she barged past them, “we have a show to get to.”

 

. . .

 

Sat in the Royal box, her royal box with her husband and mate Aelin was positively giddy. She couldn’t stop fidgeting as she waited for the music to begin.

Fenrys sat with them, Elide, Lorcan, Lysandra and Aedion in the box next to them. Gone were the emotions of this morning, though every now and then she felt them filter in and out of her head.

“This is the first orchestra I am listening to in a century,” Fenrys confessed and then Rowan agreed saying he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone to the theatre.

“That is disastrous, we shall rectify that instantly,” Aelin scolded but she didn’t hear what Fenrys said as the violins were tuned and the lights pulled up through the roof, darkening the room.

The red velvet curtain opened to reveal the extensive orchestra and Aelin moved to the edge of her seat as if it would make her hear the music better.

A man in a simple black suit walked out and the audience applauded. He bowed and then looked up to the royal box, “This is for Queen Aelin Ashryver Whitehorn Galathynius. I know this is a piece that she truly loves and though it isn’t usually played at this time of year I can think of no other piece incredible enough to bless this theatre. And as the first orchestra to play in the Royal Theatre of Terrasen, I will be eternally honoured. Now I give you, the Stygian Suite.”

Aelin’s eyes almost bulged out of her head as the conductor turned around, lifted his baton and the music began.

The music filled the theatre and Aelin’s head. She hadn’t heard this since Sam was alive and he’d attained the music for her. This was the music that had brought her back to life after a year of killing, the music she awaited every year impatient to the point of irritation. This was the music that had founded her love for the pianoforte and made her cry every single damn time. This was the music that reminded her of love, life and happiness.

She sat there in awe of the instruments and the musicians. And then the final movement hit, and she was torn apart and remade by the sheer beauty of it. She didn’t know where she ended, and the music began. A single tear ran down her face, then it was followed by more and more as the piece was finally bought to a close. She was standing and applauding then and the sound of the applause from the entire audience echoed through the theatre.

She was so unendingly happy and so grateful for her mate who showed her that even in the dark times there could be light and music and love. She would be grateful for him and the time they now have together until the day she died and even after that she would not stop loving him and thanking him.


End file.
